


Photographs

by casti3l



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6250378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casti3l/pseuds/casti3l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between Dean's death and resurrection, four months passed. And Alex is stuck with the grumpiest hunter on the planet.</p><p>This takes place between chapters 2 and 3 of And I Hope That You'll Remember Me and is just a bunch of snapshots from those four months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. First off, if you haven't read And I Hope That You'll Remember Me, I suggest you do. (This story isn't listed as part of the series because it really isn't). But if you're set on reading this, I suggest you at least check out the first few chapters of the before-mentioned work. 
> 
> Secondly, this is sort of my in-between project for season 7. I don't know how much I'll write or how many chapters will get done. So, sorry about that. It's not meant to be a beautiful masterpiece either. 
> 
> But other then that, enjoy!

**A** lex yawned, opening her eyes as sunlight forced her to return the waking world. She rolled over, arm falling off the side of the couch. Then she bolted upright, looking wildly around at the unfamiliar place. Where was she? This wasn’t her room. This wasn’t where she belonged. 

_Right_. The memories started flooding back. _Winchesters. Sam, Dean. Impossibly real demons. Dean was dead, Sam was pissed._ She fell back onto the couch with a groan, eyes squeezed impossibly tight. No. This wasn’t happening. Not to her. 

She lay there for several more minutes before rolling onto the wooden floor. She heard movement in the other room, and got up, bare feet silent as she crossed into the kitchen. "Bobby?" she asked, rubbing her tired eyes. 

“About time you got up.” Bobby Singer was leaning against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hands. “You’re probably hungry.” 

“Yeah —” Alex was cut off by a large yawn. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, waiting, and not sure what to expect now that it was just him and her. 

"Well? You don't think I'm serving you, do ya?" 

Alex laughed, more out of nervousness than anything else, and skirted around the hunter to get the cereal down from the shelf. She sat back down at the table across from Bobby. "How'd you sleep?" she asked, starting up a conversation to ease the awkward tension. 

“I didn't. You?" 

“Uh, not terrible." Alex glanced back over her shoulder, gaze coming to rest on the couch where she had been sleeping. “The couch isn’t the most comfortable,” she joked. More silence. 

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but it doesn’t sound like you plan on leaving," Bobby finally said, setting his mug down on the counter. 

"I don't have anywhere to go," Alex admitted, reluctantly turning back to the table and stirring her breakfast with her spoon. "If you don't want me, I'm sure I would be fine on my own. I —” 

"No, no. It's fine," Bobby cut in. "Actually, it'd be nice to have someone to help with all the work around here. Things can get pretty busy and I’d appreciate the extra hand.” 

“O-Okay." Alex shrugged, outwardly unfazed, but inwardly almost melting in relief. "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." Bobby looked down at her breakfast before clearing his throat. "You're probably going to need a place to sleep. I've got a spare bedroom upstairs. First door. Once we clear it out, it's all yours." 

“Yeah, thanks.” Alex’s eyes drifted towards the stairs. “And by we clear it out you mean . . .”

“I mean you clear it out,” Bobby finished. “I’ve actually got work to do.” He took another long sip of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink. “If you need me, I’ll be around.” With that, he walked away. 

 

 **A** fter putting her dishes in the sink, Alex walked back into the study. She dug through Dean's duffle bag, which she had recently adopted as her own, and pulled out a black shirt. It was large, yes, but it wasn’t like the Winchester needed them anymore, and without money or a car it was all Alex had. She tugged the black fabric to one side and secured it with a rubber band before running a hand through her tangled hair. She hadn’t found a brush anywhere in the house and pulled it up into a ponytail to hide the snarls. Deeming it good enough, she hurried upstairs. 

She followed the winding hallway, still hauntingly unfamiliar, before stopping beside a wooden door. Cracking it open, she looked inside. Bookshelves lined the walls, full of books of every size and color, and the wooden floor was littered with — unsurprisingly — even more books. A rickety bed frame sat in corner beside the window. Everything was covered in dust, and the opening of the door stirred it up, making the young girl sneeze. 

She flicked on the light, wondering where to start. "Hey Bobby?" she called over her shoulder. No answer. She ran down the stairs. "Bobby?" Still no answer. She hurried over to the back door and leaned out. “Bobby!” 

“What’d you want?" Bobby rounded the corner, a crowbar slung over his shoulder.

His sharp words combined with the heavy iron tool made the girl hesitate. “Uh, t-the room’s full of books. What do you want me to do with all of them?" 

The gruff hunter paused, thinking. ”Put 'em wherever they fit,” he finally said before walking away, and Alex sighed at his unhelpful comment. 

She returned upstairs, and started stacking the books out in the hall. On a second thought, she sorted them into piles. Foreign languages, specific creatures, almanacs, etc. It wasn’t long before she found herself distracted, intrigued by the artwork and scrawled-in comments, but somehow managed to get back on track. 

 

 **B** y the early hours of the afternoon, she had gone through all of the books that had been sitting on the floor. She sat back on the now bare floor, preparing herself both mentally and physically to start on the shelves. "What the hell?" she heard Bobby exclaim. 

The young girl scooted across the floor and leaned out the doorway. "What?" She saw him looking down at the books. "I sorted them," she explained before pointing at the nearest pile. “Everything vampire.” She pointed to a large stack further down the hall. “Books I couldn’t read.”

Bobby looked over at her, face scrunched up in confusion, as if he couldn’t understand what she had done. “What are they doing in the hallway?" 

"You told me 'put 'em wherever they fit'," Alex defended, crossing her arms. 

The hunter blinked before shaking his head. “I didn’t mean the hallway, you idjit.” 

“Right. Like I was suppose to know that.” Alex pulled herself to her feet to even the height difference between the two of them. “You said put them where they fit. They fit in the hallway.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fine. But once we move those shelves you’re gonna be the one to put them back, you understand?” When Alex grunted, he stepped over the largest pile and continued further into the house. 

 

 **N** ight came, and Alex had finally removed all of the books. She had enlisted Bobby’s help, and together they had moved four of the seven shelves out of her room and into the smaller room at the other end of the winding hall, Now, her new bedroom was completely bare. "I'm going to need a new mattress," she told Bobby that night after having inspected the old, torn one that currently sat upon its frame. 

He had shrugged, "As long as it's cheap." 

Alex laughed. 

 

 **S** he spent the night on the couch, and the next day, they got into Bobby's rusted truck and drove into town. There was a mattress store just off of W 41st St, next to a pizza parlor that Alex made a mental note to check out later. They got out and entered the store. 

They were only a few feet in before a voice stopped them. “Bobby Singer.” 

"Sheriff." Bobby tipped his dirty baseball cap in the direction of an approaching woman. 

Brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and a stern face and sharp eyes studied both him and Alex. Her voice, while austere, remained polite. “What brings you here?" 

“Mattress shopping,” Bobby responded gruffly. “Apparently my old one isn't good enough for this princess." He jerked a thumb towards Alex.

”That old mattress was disgusting,” she defended, eyes rolling in an overdramatic fashion.

The woman’s gaze turned to Alex, carefully scrutinizing her for any sign of deception. ”Sheriff Jody Mils." She finally said and held out a hand. "And who are you?"

"Alex." Alex shook it, blinking in surprise at the strength and authority behind the grip.

"You two related?" 

Alex looked up at Bobby, clearly expecting him to answer. The hunter cleared his throat. “Uh . . . yeah. She's my niece." 

The Sheriff’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ”I thought you were an only child." 

"I am. She's . . . my mom's sister's granddaughter.” The old hunter shrugged half-heartedly. “It's just easier to say niece." 

"Oh." The answer seemed to answer the sheriff's question. 

Bobby nodded, and after excusing himself less than politely, continued into the store. Alex followed, raising her eyebrows. “Wow, no love lost between you two,” she half-joked. “Close friends?” 

“No.” 

 

 **T** hey purchased a mattress and after driving it back to the house hauled it up the stairs. Alex rolled the mattress onto the frame, looking around. "Nice." She nodded appreciatively, nudging with her shin to shift it further against the wall. 

"There. I've done my part." Bobby turned towards the door. "You can make it all pretty by yourself." 

Alex rolled her eyes before following Bobby back out of the room and down the stairs. What little she now owned she carried up to her room before returning to the main floor to grab Dean’s duffle bag, which held most of his clothes he no longer needed. She hung his jackets in the wardrobe, and put his shirts in the drawer. Then she went back downstairs. "Hey, Bobby."

"Now what do you need?" the old hunter asked. 

"Well, I was hoping for some new clothes . . ." she began. “You know, since all I really have that fit are what’s on my back . . .”

"You got any money?" 

"Uh, no." 

"That's too bad." Bobby turned back to his work. 

"Bobby." 

"You want money, go get a job." Bobby stood up. "Here." He handed her a small piece of paper. "There's a man in town; name's Charlie Dayton. He owns Charlie's Antiques, and is always looking for a hand. I call him, said you'd be happy to help out." 

"Oh. Okay." Alex nodded. "When do I start?" 

"As soon as you get there. Here." He tossed her he keys. "It's yours." 

"Uh, thanks." Alex caught them. "Which one is this for? Cause there's like millions of cars out there." 

Bobby chuckled. "It's out in front." He paused. "You know how to drive, right?" 

"Of course. I'm seventeen." 

"Good." 

Exiting the house, Alex found an rusty, old car sitting in the dirt driveway. Blue paint peeled around the edges, and Alex noted it was a Chevrolet. "Nice," she whispered to herself, opening the driver's door. 

Bobby walked out. "You like it?" 

Alex nodded. ”It's nice.”

"It's the easiest car I have to drive." Bobby informed her. "You remember how to get into town?" 

"Yeah. We were just there, like, an hour ago." Alex laughed. "I'll be fine." 

"Uh-huh. Here." Bobby handed her two twenty dollar bills. "Don't spend it," he warned. "Give it to Jacob Barkley." 

"Who?" Alex took the money. 

"He'll tell you who he is." With nothing more than that, Bobby walked away. 

 

 **A** lex started the car and drove into town. She cruised down Minnesota Ave and turned down 41st before finally finding a small store with large, yellow lettering above the door. _Charlie's Antiques._ Alex parked the car along the curb, turning off the engine and shoving the keys in her pocket. She entered the small store, glancing up when it rang a small brass bell. "Hello?" she called, looking around the empty shop. "Mr. Dayton?" 

An old man appeared in the back. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice unusually strong for a man his age. 

“Hi.” Alex forced a smile, stepping forward to introduce herself. “My name's Alex. I'm friends with Bobby Singer. He called and said you were looking for some help?" 

The man’s face broke into a large grin. ”Ah yes, come in, come in." He held out his hand, and Alex took it, surprised to find his grip was a strong as his voice. "Robert said you'd be stopping in." 

"Yeah. He's my, uh, he’s my uncle. Or something like that. I just moved in with him, and was looking to earn some money. I’m pretty useful at stocking things —” 

"Well, I'm always looking for a hand around here," Charlie smiled. "Come on. I'll show you around." He lead her deeper into the store.

Alex followed, surprised getting that job had been that simple. “So, um, do you get a lot of customers in here Mr. Dayton?" Alex asked, looking around. 

The old man laughed. "More than you would think," he told her. "But please, call me Charlie." Alex smiled as he continued, leading the way into the back room. “Occasionally my grandson Braydon will come and help out, but he’s not as reliable as I’d like. I'll need you to keep a running inventory, as well as stock the shelves and ship out the old items and unpack the new." 

Alex nodded. She followed Charlie through the back of the store, looking at all of the boxes that were stacked neatly on the shelves. "Here's where we pack and unpack our items. Empty boxes on the left, boxes that need to be unpacked on the right. Boxes that need to be shipped out go in that corner." He pointed to the back wall. Alex nodded. "Packing tape and such are in those drawers.”

Alex nodded. “Got it.” 

 

 **A** few hours later, Alex exited the shop, heading towards her car. She had just reached the trunk when a voice had her turning around. "Are you Alex?" 

Alex nodded. "Yeah, that's me." She looked up at the man, eyes narrowed in confusion as to how he knew of her. He was of average height, brown hair of medium length, and was wearing jeans and a button down, but didn’t look familiar. In his arms was a brown grocery bag.

"The name's Jacob Barkley." She saw the man study her. "And you're not what I expected," he added with a small smile. 

“Oh!” The name suddenly clicked into place, and Alex dug into her back pocket to produce the bill she had been given. “Uh . . . Bobby told me to give you this." 

"Um, right.” The man let out a weak and awkward smile. “Are you sure you're over twenty one?" 

"Uh, no." Alex looked confused. "Why?"

"I was suppose to give you this." Mr. Barkley motioned to the bag. 

"Okay, then give it to me."

"But it's alcohol . . ." 

Alex rolled her eyes at the realization, internally cursing Bobby Singer. “Yeah, I figured that much,” she finally said. “Um, I mean, maybe you could just throw it in the trunk? I —”

"What's going on?" Alex turned at the sound of the sheriff's voice. She forced out a smile in greeting. 

She heard Mr. Barkley catch his breath. "I can explain,” he began hurriedly.

"Good." The sheriff crossed her arms. "Let's hear it." 

"Bobby called. Placed in a order, you know, the usual," Jacob Barkley looked down at Alex. "He said I should give it to a girl named Alex. He told me what car she was driving, and said she'd have the money. I figured Alex would be, you know . . . older. That's why I haven't given it to her yet." 

Alex shrugged, and the sheriff's eyes turned to her. "Well?" 

"Well what?" Alex shrugged again. "Bobby gave me the money, and that’s all he said.” 

"You know that's against the law, right?" 

"A lot of things are against the law," Alex replied sharply; she wasn't exactly in a very good mood anymore. "But, fine. If you want to take his beer to him, be my guest." She added, "If I had my mind set on drinking it, I'd just drink it at his house. So it's not like this would stop me. By the way, I don't actually drink. Yuck." she pulled a face. 

The sheriff studied her closely. "How's Bobby doing?" she finally asked. 

"It's . . . been tough." Alex started, then shrugged. "Someone really close to him died a few weeks ago. Like really close. Bobby saw him as . . . well, his son. He hasn't shown a whole lot of grief though. I sort of think he's in some kind of shock or denial." 

"Hm. Sorry to hear that. You seem like a decent kid, though.” Sheriff Mils turned back to Mr. Barkley. "Give her the bag," she ordered. 

"Really?" Jacob seemed surprised. 

"I'll allow it. _Only_ for her," she warned. "If I catch you selling to any other kid . . ." With one last glare towards the two of them she walked away. 

Mr. Barkley silently handed her the bag. "Thanks," Alex mumbled. She put it in the floor in the backseat. She got into the driver's seat and started the car. Before she pulled out, she heard a knock on the window. She looked over to see the sheriff. She rolled down the window. "What?" 

“I’m not making this decision lightly,” the sheriff warned. “Singer’s a recluse and a drunk, but maybe being around another human soul will do him some good. But I'm going to keep a very close eye on you. If I see you so much as sniff at an open bottle, I'll revoke my decision before you can say’‘sorry,’ okay?" She looked around. "Where is it?" 

Alex rolled her eyes. "Backseat. On the floor. Far out of my reach.”

The sheriff nodded. "Good. And keep a check on your attitude." 

Alex nodded. “I won’t drink any,” she promised, doing her best to keep her voice sincere. “My dad was a drunk too, so I’m pretty well aware of the downsides.”

“Good.” The sheriff pulled her head back out of the window and walked away. Alex forced a smile and nod before turning back to the wheel, rolling her eyes. She restarted the car and drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

**"B** obby? I'm back." Alex kicked closed the front door and carried the grocery bag into the kitchen. "I got the job. And your, uh . . . stuff." She set the bag onto the dirty wooden countertops, shaking her head at the sight of the dismal pile of dishes still stacked in the sink. 

"Put it on the table for now,” Bobby called from his desk in the next room. "Then get your ass in here." 

Alex rolled her eyes, but moved the bag from the counter to the just-as-cluttered kitchen table. "Thanks a lot," she muttered as she entered the dark and dusty study. 

"What?" Bobby didn’t look up from the pile of books he was flipping through. 

“I’m officially on the sheriff's radar thanks to you." 

That got him to look up. ”What?" Bobby repeated, looking genuinely confused. “Why?” 

"The whiskey. In the bag," Alex explained. Bobby didn't get it, and Alex threw her head back in annoyance. "I'm only seventeen, Bobby. Apparently me having that is _illegal._ ”

The hunter blinked before turning back to his book. “It’s a stupid law,” the hunter muttered, probably to himself. “You ain’t gonna drink it anyways.” 

“Yeah. That’s what I told her during the little conversation we had. I had to talk my way out of what probably would have been serious trouble, thank you very much." 

“Whatever. Did you get it?” When Alex nodded he shifted his chair backwards. “Good. Now come here and help me with this.” 

Alex rolled her eyes again, but allowed the change of topic. ”What?” She circled around the desk to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder to see what lay on the desk. She didn’t recognize the book he had in front of him, and although the language was clearly English, it was obviously an old dialect. 

"A couple of hunters called,” Bobby explained. “Brothers. Charlie and Duncan Hayward. They're in Upstate Washington on a case." 

Alex made a semi-interested noise. “So what are we dealing with?" 

"No idea," the hunter reluctantly admitted. “All we know so far is it’s something that only goes after people who are drunk." 

“Huh. Shojo?" Alex suggested. 

Bobby looked up, slightly impressed. "No. Not Japanese. And it’s visible to the sober. Good guess though.” He turned back to his book. “An eyewitness described it as a pale female who disappeared back into a river. Drowns its victims. That's all we know. Although they're up near a community of Russian descent, which might help narrow it down. But we've still got a lot of work ahead of us." 

“Okay.” Alex nodded in understanding. “So how can I help?" 

Bobby turned the worn, yellowed page.”Red book,” he instructed. “Upstairs bathroom. Second shelf." 

Alex nodded, heading up the stairs. She wound her way through the halls, entering the upstairs bathroom. She walked over to the bookcase, shaking her head. Only Bobby would have a bookcase in the bathroom. _Second shelf._ Alex ran her finger across the spines of the books before curling them around the red one. Once she had it securely in her arms she hurried back downstairs. “Here.”

"Start reading.” 

Alex blinked in surprise, then shrugged and walked over to the couch. She sat down, swung her legs up onto the seat next to her and opened the book. Then she froze. "Bobby." 

"Hm?" 

"I can't read this." 

"Why not." Bobby didn't look up from his own research. 

Alex stared down at the mess of letters. ”It's not in English, Bobby," she said, exasperated. 

"It's in Russian." 

"I don't _read_ Russian." 

"May as well start learning." Bobby finally looked up. "You're also going to need to learn Greek and Latin if you want to be a decent hunter.” 

“Give me the book you’re reading,” the young girl insisted. When Bobby protested she whined, “I don’t want to read the Russian book. You know Russian. You read it.”

“I don’t want to read the Russian book either,” Bobby retorted. “Go use the computer if you have to. It’s able to translate or something.”

“Yeah, but that’s a lot of work." Alex sat up on the couch, shifting the book onto her lap. "How as I suppose to do this?” 

 

 **S** everal hours passed. Alex finally did opt for Google Translate, and actually picked up a few words. Bobby finally stopped. "I think I've got it." he told her, dropping a large, dusty book in front of her. "Sounds like we're lookin' at a Shishiga." 

"Shishiga?" Alex repeated. She looked up, confused. “I haven’t heard of that before.” 

Bobby was going to answer, but one of the many phones rang. "Hold that thought." He picked the phone up. "Hello." Slight pause. "Yes, Agent Milton is one of my best agents." Pause. "Yes sir. I assure you, he's perfectly capable. Of course, ma’am.” He hung up and turned back to the young girl. "You were saying? Right. Shishiga. They’re pretty rare, but not unheard up, especially in the west coast over there. Here. Read." 

Alex did so, trailing her finger down the page as she skimmed it. "White woman, lives in bodies of moving water, brings misfortune to drunkards, drowns it's victims, yeah.” She nodded. “Fits the description to a T. So. How do you kill it?" In response, Bobby turned the page. Alex quickly scanned it"Ah. Brass knife to the heart. Classic.”

Bobby grunted in agreement and flipped the heavy book closed. ”Call Charlie and Duncan,” he instructed, handing her a large three-ring binder. “I've got something to finish." 

"Uh, okay." Alex picked up the main landline, and flipped open the binder, running her finger through Bobby's many contacts. _Hayward, Charlie._ She dialed the number and let it ring. 

"Hello?" A strange man answered it. 

“Charlie?” Alex guessed. “Hey, this is Alex. I'm friends with Bobby Singer. We’ve been looking into what it is you’re hunting. Listen, we think we know what you're dealing with." 

“Awesome, uh, Alex, right?” There was muted dialogue on the other end of the line, and Alex heard the familiar rustle as Charlie muted the phone against his shirt. After a few seconds he picked it back up. “So. What have we got?" 

"It sounds like a Shishiga. Of Russian origin, similar to a siren." Alex ran her finger down the page. "Drowns any drunken victim that wanders to close to its habitat, which is usually near a lake or river. Described as a pale woman, seems to fit what you’re describing pretty well.” 

“Alright, yeah, that sounds like what we’ve got. So how do we kill it?" 

"Brass knife. You need to cut off it's head." 

"Brass knife?” came the muted voice, and there was the sound of a hand hitting skin. 

“Put that down, you asshole. You’ll kill someone,” Charlie muttered before turning back to the phone. “Okay. I might know where to get one. Thanks." 

"No problem." Alex hung up, rolling her eyes in amusement. 

 

 **T** wo weeks passed. Alex fell into a simple routine. She'd work down at Charlie's four days a week, and soon earned a little bit of money with which she was able to buy a new pair of jeans along with two t-shirts that actually fit. The rest of the money went straight to Bobby, who used it to pay the bills and buy food and beer. Alex didn't really mind; she knew money was tight for the old hunter, and was whole-heartedly willing to help out in anyway she could. Whatever she could do to repay him for his hospitality and her room. 

When she wasn’t working in town or helping in the salvage yard, Bobby insisted that Alex spent the rest of her time reading; if she had to be honest, it was far more boring than she had expected. The english was easy enough, but it wasn’t long before Bobby started her on Latin and Greek which, though interesting to look at, only made her head spin once she tried to read it.

 

 **O** ne sun day, Alex was out back playing with basketball with the old, rusted hoop she had hung on the side of the house when she heard a voice, "Where's Bobby?" 

"Hm?" Alex took a shot, watching it bounce off the backboard and roll off the outside of the rim. She huffed, and turned to see a man standing there. He wasn't very tall, but was thin, and overall, well, awkward looking. Alex immediately recognized him. “Uh, Garth?" 

"Yup, that would be me." The young hunter studied her. "Who are you?" 

"Alex." Alex let out a half smile in greeting. “I . . . I’m new here.” She hurried over to retrieve her basketball, which was quickly rolling away. “Bobby should be inside,” she finally said when she caught up to it. “Let yourself in." 

"Thanks." Garth entered the house. 

Alex took a few more shots, then grew bored when they stopped going in. She tossed the ball off to the side and wandered off into the salvage yard in hopes of finding something marginally more interesting to do. She turned down the wide isle and kicked at a spare bolt lying in the dirt. 

Suddenly, someone grabbed her around the throat. Alex panicked. She struggled, but nothing happened. Thinking fast, she went limp, trying to fall to the ground. She could feel her assailant struggle to keep her on her feet. Alex lashed out, kicking backwards, hitting him in the groin. She heard him gasp, and he loosened his grip. Alex broke free and stepped away, turning to face her opponent. She relaxed. "What the hell?" 

"Bobby wasn't in the house," Garth breathed, leaning up against a car. 

"So you attacked me?" Alex wanted to punch him in the face. 

"I didn't think you could fight." 

"So you _attacked_ me?" Alex repeated. She kicked him in the gut. 

"Whoa whoa whoa." Alex turned at Bobby's voice. "The hell are you doing? Stop beating up other hunters.” 

"He attacked me first.” Alex defended herself, crossing her arms petulantly. "What was I suppose to do?" 

"Bobby." Garth pulled himself to his feet. "Good to see you. I was just seeing if she could defend herself, you know, living here and all." 

“Yeah,” Alex huffed. “Thanks for that.” 

Bobby looked between Alex and Garth, shaking his head. “How are you still alive,” he muttered under his breath before turning back to Alex. “Thanks. You can go now. I’ll take care of this.” Alex huffed again, but stalked off. She followed the path that led behind the garage far into the back woods, hopping the rickety fence that divided Bobby’s land from an undeveloped property. She pulled herself up into a thick oak tree, leaning back, looking around. She climbed higher until the tree dipped and swayed with wind. 

She had just closed her eyes when heard a noise below her. She opened one eye and looked around before scrambling down the trunk. 

Below her, she caught glimpse of a tawny creature. At first, she assumed it to be a deer, but when it reappeared, she jumped from the branches. It was a dog, a stray, by the lack of a collar. Alex knelt down. The dog eyed her closely, tail wagging slowly back and forth. Alex clicked her tongue, holding out her hand. The dog approached, sniffing it, tail speeding up as it disrupted the bushes beside it. A tongue darted out, and Alex laughed quietly. The dog nudged her hand with his head, and Alex scratched him behind his dark brown ears. "Hey, buddy." she smiled. "You're friendly. Are you lost?" The dog stepped forward, pressing his head into her stomach, leaning into her. Alex laughed again. "Good boy," she praised, looking about in hopes of seeing the creature’s owner. 

"Alex?" Alex looked up at the sound of Bobby's voice. 

"Coming!" She called, standing up. She ran off towards the fence, jumping over it. She heard footfalls behind her, and turned to see the dog easily clear the wooden fence, muscles stretching and contracting under its thin pelt. She grinned at it’s agility.

"What the hell?" Bobby caught sight of Alex and the dog. 

"Hm?" Alex glanced behind her to see the creature quickly approaching. "He's been following me. Can I keep him?" 

"Course not," Bobby snorted. "We don't need another stray." He studied the dog, which looked him happily, tongue lolling out to one side. "Are you sure he's not someone's already?" 

"I'm not sure," Alex admitted. "I hope not."

"Why don't you bring him to Craig. He might know. He lives in that house over there." Bobby pointed off to his left. "If he doesn't know who he belongs to, then maybe you can have him. _Maybe._ “ 

"Thanks Bobby." Alex gave him a quick hug before tearing off across the yard, the dog at her heels. Bobby watched them go, a small smile across his face. "I said maybe!" he called after her. 

 

 **A** lex made her way up to the front door of the neighbor's house. The dog who had so faithfully followed her down the road and up the driveway disappeared around the side of the house, and Alex leaned over the rail to see where it was going. She whistled, hoping to draw it back to her, and the dog's head snapped up, tail wagging. The door opened, and Alex turned to see a middle aged man step out onto the porch. "Can I hep you?" he asked, brown eyes sweeping across Alex in confusion. 

"Uh, hi." Alex smiled. A small dog suddenly bolted out the door and down into the yard. The stray came out to meet it, tail swinging back and forth.

"Who's this?" The man went down the stairs to greet the dog, all attention towards Alex lost. 

The young girl shrugged and followed him down to the lawn. “I don't know,” she admitted. “I just found him. My name's Alex. I'm living next door.” She pointed vaguely towards Bobby’s property. “At the Singer Salvage Yard?” 

"With Bobby?" The man's lips twisted into a small frown at the thought before his face brightened once again. "Ah, yes, I've heard about you. You're Bobby's girl." 

_Bobby’s girl?_ Alex blinked in surprise. “I’m not actually his girl . . .”

"No, no, of course not." The man scratched the dog's ears then straightened up. “We’re a pretty close knit neighborhood on this side of the city, so word gets around pretty fast.” He held out a large hand. “My name is Craig Vongrey, local veterinarian.” 

"Hm. Nice you meet you." Alex shook his hand. The smaller dog abandoned the larger mutt and ran up to her, and she knelt down to meet it. 

"That's Mesha," Craig added, sitting down on the front step. 

"She's really pretty." Alex stroked the small dog's long tawny fur as the creature ran in energetic circles around her. ”What's her breed?" 

"She's a shih-tzu yorkie mix," Craig said, cutting off when the mutt walked by. "And what about this guy?" 

"I'm not sure." Alex studied the dog with a small shrug. "He looks like a pit mix. Maybe shepherd pit?" 

"That's what I was thinking too." Mr. Vongrey's eyes met hers. "Very good." 

"Thank you." Alex blushed slightly. "I'm pretty good with dog breeds." 

"Ah. So what brings you around?" 

"Well, I wanted to keep him," Alex said quietly. "He doesn't have a collar, so I figured he was a stray, but he's really friendly, so I don't know." 

"Hm. Well, he doesn't belong to anyone around here," Craig informed her. "I've seen him around a few times. But he's never come up to me." The dog let out a yawn, walking over to Alex. He rested his head on her knee, and Alex stroked his ears. Craig laughed. "But he likes you. Why don't you bring him down to my office tomorrow morning. We'll give him a good check up, make sure he's healthy." He reached over, running his hand over the dog's haunches. The dog wagged its tail even faster, and his chocolate eyes closed.

"Really?" Alex looked excited, but paused. "How much will it cost?" she asked quietly. "I'm not sure I have enough saved." 

Craig looked over at her, sympathy in his eyes. "That's fine. You can help out around the clinic to pay it off if you want." 

"Uh, yeah," Alex smiled. "That would be fine. Oh, I'm also working at Charlie's Antiques, so . . .”

"That's no problem. We can work around that." Craig smiled, and the dog rolled onto its stomach. "Oh, you'll probably want a collar and leash for this boy." He stood up. "Come on inside." 

Alex stood up and followed him inside. "Nice," Alex nodded appreciatively. "It's like Bobby's. Except cleaner." The mutt ran into the house, sniffing around.

"Thank you." He lead them farther into the house. "If you don't mind me saying so, I don't think any house is worse than Bobby's." 

"Yeah. It's not that bad," Alex defended him. "It . . . has it's good sides. Sometimes." 

Craig laughed. "I'm sure it does. Here." He held up a large brown collar. "It should fit." He called the dog over, and put it on. "And a leash." He clicked it on to the collar and handed the worn red handle to Alex. 

"Thank you," Alex smiled. 

"No problem." Craig walked her to the door. "See you tomorrow. Oh, and if Bobby decides he doesn't want the dog; I'll take him." He winked. 

Alex laughed. ”Okay, I'll keep that in mind. Thank you." Alex waved goodbye and walked back to Bobby's. 

 

 **"D** amn," Bobby cursed, seeing Alex with the dog. "I was sure it was domesticated." He pulled the hubcap off of a car and let it roll away.

Alex shrugged, somewhat smug. "Guess not. He's mine now. Hope you like dogs, Singer.” 

"Hold on," the older hunter protested, crossing his arms. "I said maybe. _Maybe_ you can keep him. I didn’t make any promises.” 

Alex rolled her eyes. "Too late," she said light heartedly. "You'll warm up to him. How could you not?" She scratched the dog's ears, and he leaned against her leg. 

Bobby rolled his eyes. ”Whatever. Just keep him out of trouble. And he doesn’t get to go in the house.” With that, Bobby headed off towards the garage. Alex smiled and took the dog directly into the house. 

She let him off the leash, watching him run around, smelling everything. Alex laughed. "Good boy. What's your name, eh?" She studied him. The dog trotted over to her, leaning into her. "Your so cuddly," she joked. "Like a teddy bear." 

The dog perked up, wagging its tail. 

"Teddy? Bear?" Alex asked. The dog opened its mouth, its long pink tongue rolling out. "Bear, eh? Okay. Bear it is.” With a chuckle she added, “I have a feeling Bobby’s going to like you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**A** lex yawned, sitting up. Bear immediately jumped to his feet, tail thumping loudly against the paper-thin walls. Alex looked out the window to see that the sky was still dark. She had fallen asleep on the couch earlier that evening, and scratched her head, not fully sure how she had gotten upstairs. She threw back the covers and crept quietly out of bedroom, which, in all actuality, was rather pointless, as Bear ran out ahead of her, tail swinging like a club against the walls.

She hurried down the stairs and stopped by the back door, putting on a pair of shoes and one of Dean's jackets. Then, she slipped outside, letting Bear dash out ahead of her. The summer air was nice and warm, and Alex wandered among the cars, looking up at the stars. She sat down on the hood of her favorite car; a 1965 Chevrolet Chevelle. "Castiel?" she called. “Castiel! You listening?" No answer. Not that Alex was expecting one. "You out looking for Dean yet? Hopefully. Lilith's still planning to use him to start the apocalypse, you know. I’m not lying. He's the only one who can stop it."

She paused, listening, but there was nothing.

"It'd be easier if you were here," she finally admitted. "Explaining it, and all.” When there was still no answer she sighed. “Well, okay. Stay safe, man.” She lay back on the hood of the car, looking back up at the stars.

 

 **L** ate the next morning, Alex hurried down the stairs. Not seeing Bobby, she walked into the kitchen, pulling out a box of cereal and the milk. She poured herself a bowl and then frowned, shoulders dropping in disappointment and disbelief. “That son of a bitch ate all the marshmallows.” She slammed the box down the table. “I splurge and get Lucky Charms and he _ate_ all the marshmallows. That bastard.” She raised her voice so Bobby could here. “You ate all my marshmallows?”

When the hunter didn’t answer she rolled her eyes and reached the the milk. She poured herself a bowl before sticking it back back into the fridge and sitting down at the table. There was an open book there, and Alex casually read it, glad that it was actually in English. Judging by the hasty sketches and small, almost illegible screwing on the worn pages, she deduced it to be Bobby's notes on demons.

"Alex?" Bobby's voice reached her ears, causing the young girl to look up. "You seen my book?" His words were faint, probably originating from the basement below.

“Yeah, Bobby,” Alex called back, stabbing her spoon into her marshmallow-less cereal while looking around the crowded kitchen and study. "I'm looking at a couple hundred of your books right now. Want to be a little more specific?"

She heard footsteps coming up from the basement, and a few seconds later Bobby appeared. "Smart-ass," he muttered. "You're reading it." Alex laughed. He took the book out from under Alex's hand. He stopped, glancing at the necklace Alex had around her neck. "Haven't seen that in a while," he commented.

"Oh." Alex glanced down at it. "Usually I keep it under my shirt."

"You wear it everyday?"

"Yeah." Alex nodded, fingering the angel-wing charm. “Every day since my mom died.”

"That reminds me," Bobby mumbled, and disappeared up the stairs without another word. Alex shook her head at his strange but surprisingly common exit. She had just picked her spoon back up when there was a knock on the door. "Get it," Bobby called from somewhere upstairs.

Alex rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She pushed back her chair and walked over to the front door, eyes flickering over to the silver knife resting on the small table next to her. She opened the wooden front door and peered through screen. "Uh, hello?"

Two men stood there, the oldest no older than mid twenties. The younger’s eyes flickered past Alex further into the house. “Hey. Is, uh, is Bobby around?"

"Maybe." Alex narrowed her eyes in wariness. “Depends, I suppose. Who are you?"

The older man smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling humorously. “It’s okay. I’m Charlie. Charlie Hayward. This is my younger brother Duncan." He jerked a thumb towards the other man

"Oh. I'm Alex." The young girl held open the doors so the two hunters could enter. “I, uh, I’m the one who called about the shishigra when you guys were in Washington. That was you guys, right?”

"Yeah, that was us. Thanks, by the way." Charlie led the way into the study. “Thanks, by the way. Brass knife worked just fine.”

Alex grinned. “Great. Glad I could help.” She sat down on the corner of the desk, watching as Duncan wandered into the kitchen.

Charlie rolled his eyes, leaning against the doorframe and turning his head to see what his brother was doing. “Put that down, you idiot,” he chastised. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Alex. “He’s a numbskull.”

“Am not,” Duncan retorted, returning to the study with a beer in his hand. He stuck of his tongue as he passed, and Charlie reached out to knock him over the head. Duncan flopped down on the couch, long legs stretching outwards. “Where’s Bobby?”

"Dunno." Alex walked over to the stairs. "Bobby?" she called. "It's Charlie and Duncan."

"Hold up, girl. I'm coming." Bobby hurried down the stairs. "Ah. Charlie. Duncan." He acknowledged the two hunters in turn. "What brings you around?"

Duncan shrugged. "We were in the area." He cracked open the bottle and took a long gulp before sitting up straighter. “It’s been a while sine we’ve been around.”

Alex studied him. Short beach-blonde hair, blue eyes. He was shorter than his brother, but not by much. He looked a lot like his older brother. Charlie, however, had dark brown hair that stuck up in every direction, and ice blue eyes that sparkled humorously at everything. He glanced over at Alex, and, catching her eye, he smiled. “Word's gotten 'round you had a new friend," he told Bobby light-heartedly. “I’ll admit, I was expecting someone . . . older.”

Bobby grunted in acknowledgement of his statement. “Yup. That's Alex."

“Already introduced myself.”

Bobby turned back to Charlie. "How'd the Shishigra go?" he asked, leaning against the desk next to Alex and crossing his arms.

"Great, actually. Brass knife worked like a charm, everything went without a hitch. Thanks a lot." Charlie glanced around at the empty whiskey bottles on the desk. "Everything okay here?"

"Everything's fine," Bobby said, a sharp edge on his voice. "Hope you don't mind, but I was in the middle of something. Make yourselves at home; I'll be right back." With that, he ran up the stairs.

Both of the Heywards watched Bobby go before Duncan looked over at Alex. "So, Alex. How'd you get involved in all this hunting?"

Alex shrugged, shifting on the desk and bringing her feet up to cross them under her. "Long story short? I, uh, sort of, fell into it. Was hit by a couple other hunters' car, they brought me here. Uh, Winchesters. Don’t know if you’ve heard of them.” When the brothers shook their heads she finished, “I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I just kind of stayed."

"You been hunting?" Charlie asked.

Alex hesitated. ”I've been on one trip. Didn't do any actual hunting though."

“Good,” Charlie nodded. “Hunting's no fun. And not something you should get involved with it you can help it,” he added.

"I'm sure it's not. But, thankfully, I've never been grossed out by blood or guts or whatever."

"Hm." Charlie walked into the kitchen. “Anything to drink?”

“Yeah. There’s beer in the fridge. Top shelf.”

“Thanks.” The fridge opened and closed. “I assume you don’t drink.” When Alex nodded he grunted. “Good. Don’t start drinking until you need to, okay?”

Alex smiled, blushing slightly at his concern. “Don’t worry,” she promised. “I won’t.” She hurried into the fridge and pulled out a can of Mountain Dew. “So. What’s your guys’ story?”

She returned to the study in time to see Charlie and Duncan exchange looks. “There’s not much to it,” Charlie finally said. “Like you said earlier, we kind of fell into it.”

“March 2001,” Duncan began. “We were on spring break down in Missouri. Long story short, one of the kids with us got possessed by a ghost. Killed three of us until Singer here came in and sent that bitch back to beyond.”

“Duncan became obsessed with the paranormal,” Charlie added scornfully.

“We were attacked by a _ghost,”_ Duncan defended. “What was I suppose to do?”

“I only became a hunter to keep this idiot out of trouble.” Charlie ducked to one side when Duncan chucked his empty beer can at his brother’s head.

Alex grinned, settling back onto the desk. “He can’t be _that_ bad,” she teased.

“Let’s just say if you were tied up in a cave and Duncan showed up to rescue you, you’d hope he wasn’t alone.”

“That was one time! You were suppose to keep that damn Wendigo —”

“You two _still_ fighting about Yellowstone?” Bobby walked back into the study, shaking his head in dismay. “Idjits. You’d both be dead if I hadn’t been there.”

Alex smirked at the look on both of their faces. “You hunt with them a lot?” she asked instead. “I . . . I don’t know, got the impression you were mostly a Winchester kind of guy.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to discover that.” She turned back to the two Heywards. “He keeps a bookshelf in the upstairs bathroom.” When they chuckled she added, “How long are you guys staying? We could call in a pizza for lunch.”

Charlie looked at Bobby for his approval before nodding. “We caught wind of a case a few hours north though. Just thought we’d stop by and say hey, but we can stay for a little while.”

“Course,” Bobby agreed. “You boys are always welcome here.” There was a bark from outside and the hunter’s eyes rolled back into his skull in annoyance. “Damn dog.” He disappeared around the corner, and Alex heard the back door open before there was a rushed click of nails against the wooden floor. Seconds later Bear came bounding into the room sliding to a stop in front of Duncan, tail swinging from side to side. He reared up and placed his front paws on the man’s crossed legs, panting heavily in both exertion and excitement.

Alex grinned and clicked her tongue, turning the dog’s attention to her for only the briefest of seconds. “That’s Bear. He’s my dog.” When Bobby came back she added in a stage whisper, “I don’t think Bobby likes him very much.”

“Damn thing’s a menace,” Bobby grumbled. “And clumsy as hell.”

“He just reminds you of Rumsfeld,” Alex admonished, bringing up the old Rottweiler Bobby had owned a few years back. If she remembered correctly, he had been killed by Meg or something.

Bear leaned against Charlie’s leg, and the young hunter chuckled. “He’s a sweet dog, Bobby. How can you hate a face like that?”

“Watch me,” the gruff hunter retorted good-naturedly.

 

 **T** he two brothers stayed for a while, then said their goodbyes and left. Bobby left a few minutes later to run into town, leaving Alex by herself. She was sitting at the table reading when there was a knock at the door. She got up and warily approached the door.

"You gotta help me." A man was there, with dark skin and dark eyes. "I got — where's Bobby?"

"Uh, town.” Alex’s fingers tightened on the handle of the silver knife, and she held it behind her back. “Can I help you? Who are you?”

The man studied her up and down, then held out his hand. "Name's Rufus. Rufus Turner."

"Alex." Alex opened the door and shook it, some relief coming at the familiar name. "I've heard of you. Bobby's friend, right? Hunter."

“Yeah, sure. ‘Friend.’ Now, you busy? This is kind of important.”

"Why?"

"Cause I got someone in my trunk and I need you guys to figure out what she is."

Alex blinked. "What?" She tried to peer past the hunter to see what she could see, but his broad body blocked her view.

"Oh, don't worry. She's as dead as can be," the hunter quickly promised. "Silver knife worked just fine. But I don't know what she is. Mind if I bring her in?"

Alex stared blankly. "You want to bring the dead body into the house."

"Yeah, girl. You must be new here."

"Yeah. Wha -- where would we put it?"

"Basement."

"Okay, uh, what the hell? As long as it's dead."

Rufus nodded and hurried out to his truck that was sitting beside a pile of old parts. Just then, Bobby pulled up in his rusty truck, the old piece of machinery rumbling to a halt and suddenly dying. "Thank God," Alex muttered as the door was flung open.

"Rufus." Bobby got out of the car.

"Singer."

"What brings you here?"

"Got a bitch in my trunk, and I don't know what she is."

Bobby looked over at Alex, who shrugged, eyes wide with innocence. “Okay,” he finally conceded. “How'd you kill her? I assume she'd dead."

“Oh she's dead alright. A silver knife did her in just fine." Rufus propped open the trunk to his car, revealing the body of a young, beautiful woman. He prodded her, but she didn't stir. "Figured you'd want to know what she is as much as I do."

"Hell yeah. Bring her in."

Alex watched as Rufus heaved the body out of the trunk and slung it over his shoulder. Alex hurried over to the house, holding the door open for the hunter and his cargo.

"You mind explaining what's going on?"

Alex looked over at Bobby, shocked. "I haven't the slightest,” she admitted. “This guy Rufus just showed up banging on the door saying he's got a body in the trunk."

"Didn't I tell you not to answer the door unless I”m here?"

“Really?” Alex rolled her eyes. “Bobby, it's not like I'd be any safer. The doors don't even _lock_."

The old hunter just shook his head. "Come on. Let's go see what this thing is."

 

 **A** few hours later, Alex found herself in one of Bobby's old, worn shirts, which was now splattered with blood. "The hell is this?" she muttered, prodding into the now-open chest cavity of the monster, her nose and mouth cover with the back of her hand.

Bobby barely spared the organ a glance, but was able to identify it immediately. “Looks like the heart."

“Yeah, but what's it doing down by the liver?"

"Obviously she had different physiology." Bobby removed a large, smooth organ which Alex couldn’t place off of the top of her head. "Means she was born a monster, and wasn't bitten. Hearts don’t normally change places.”

"Oh." Alex raised her eyebrows, shrugging. Okay then. It made sense. “So, born a monster, killed with a silver knife. Okie-dokie." She wiped her hands on her shirt. "When I woke up this morning, I didn't think I'd be doing this,” she admitted with a small laugh. She tossed the scalpel onto the other table and pulled off her gloves.

Bobby let out a chuckle. "Don't tell me you never did this back home."

Alex huffed. "Never. I, uh, yeah." She ended in awkward silence, not keen on bringing up anything about her past.

Bobby definitely noticed. "That bad?"

"Wasn't good." Alex turned her attention back to the open corpse for one last look. "Is this the stomach?" she guessed, pointing to where the heart should have been.

"Not sure what that is." Bobby wiped the blood off his hands. "You ready to put her back together and bury her? I’ve got a hole dug in the back woods that should work.”

"Uh, sure. Why don't you take care of that.” Alex looked down at her phone to check the time. “I, uh, I'm suppose to be with Craig today.” Seeing the hunter’s face she added, “I’m not just saying that cause I’m lazy. I actually work today.”

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

With a similar roll of her own eyes, Alex left.


	4. Chapter 4

**I** t was the evening when Alex returned from her work. The house was dark, the only light the lamp of the study desk where Bobby was sitting. He grunted a greeting when she entered, and Alex sat down on the couch, waiting. However, when no other words came, she rolled her eyes and pulled the nearest book she could find into her lap. She flipped it open; it was in Latin. Unsurprising. 

"How was it?" 

"Huh?" Alex looked up, surprised to find Bobby willingly striking up a mundane conversation. “Work? Uh, fine, fine. Um, how were things here?" 

The hunter grunted again. "Good. No thanks to you." 

The young girl let out a huff of indignation. "I was working,” she reminded. “Someone's gotta make the money around here. I’m surprised you managed to keep this place running without me.” 

Bobby closed his book, and Alex tipped her head as he looked up. "You never said why you didn't want to go home."

Alex frowned slightly, adverting her eyes. "I don't have a home." 

"Where were you living?" 

"Chicago. With a foster family. My second, actually." 

"Why don't you want to go back to them?" 

Alex looked up, desperation concealed in her wide blue eyes. "You aren't asking me to leave, are you?" 

Bobby Singer shook his head. ”No. Not really. I'm just wondering why you ain't with them." He picked up his glass of scotch and took a long sip.

"Why would I go back to them?” Alex snorted at the very idea. “They _hated_ me. They were hoping to get a young foster kid, someone around their own kid’s ages. But instead they got me. Mom dead, abandoned by her father, still getting over her first foster family’s death. They . . . they didn’t want me. The minute I turned eighteen, they were going to throw me out. My birthday's in January, Bobby. They were going to throw me out on the street in the middle of the winter! I — what would I do? I literally had no future. Being here's almost an answer to prayers." 

Bobby grunted. "That's an interesting view on all this." 

Alex picked back up her book, pulling her feet up onto the couch. "At least here I have a roof over my head." 

The old hunter fell silent. Then he got up. 'Here. I, uh, I got you something." He handed her a small brown book. "If you're gonna stick around her, you're gonna need one of these." 

Alex took it. It was a journal, smaller than the one Bobby wrote in. She flipped through the blank pages. "Okay, thanks." A small smile flickered across her face to find Bobby’s handwriting on the last page, his name and home phone number scrawled on the first line.

"And, uh, this." Bobby dropped a small metal charm into her hand. "Anti-possession. You're going to need this too." 

Alex studied it. It was round, probably about an inch across. It was red with a silver Chinese-looking symbol in the middle. "Anti-possession?" 

Bobby knew what she meant. "That pentagram isn't the only demon deterrent in the world," he reminded her. "If you're bored, may as well get started on that journal. Shishiga. " 

Alex rolled her eyes, but did as he asked. She pulled off her necklace, slipping the charm onto the metal chain. Then she returned it to her neck, not before fingering the angel wing charm. It had come in a set; her mother had the other one; she had been buried in it, and since then Alex had always worn hers. It was one of the few real memories of her mother she had. 

Bobby noticed her quietness, turning back to his book with a small sigh. “We’re leaving tomorrow,” he finally said. When Alex made a small noise he explained, “Taking a trip down to Dallas. Felix and Oscar are looking for some backup.” He quickly added, “You won’t be doing any hunting. Strictly research, understand?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Alex looked down at herself and added with a humorous tone, “I’m a little too tiny to take on anything bigger than Garth, huh?” The clicking of nails had her looking up, and she smiled as Bear trotted in, tail wagging at the sight of her. “Oh, hello, handsome.” She kissed his head, hands cradling his face. “Where were you?” 

“Damn thing’s taken up the habit of sleeping on my bed,” Bobby grumbled, and Bear leaned against Alex’s legs, tail thumping against the couch. 

“Aww, I think he likes you,” the young girl teased. “When are we leaving? I’m sure Craig wouldn’t mind watching him on such short notice.” 

“Tomorrow morning. Six o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” 

“Oh, okay.” Alex looked at the clock and then sighed. “I guess I’ll bring him over now.” She stood up, a large grin across her face. “You want to go for a walk?” she asked, laughing as Bear sprang to life, ears perked up in interest. “Come on.” She led the way over to the door and pulled on her shoes before hooking the red leash to Bear’s collar. 

She walked down the driveway and down the street to the next, secluded house. The lights were on, and she knocked soundly on the door. A few seconds later, Craig opened the door. “Uh, hey Alex.” 

“Hey.” Alex looked down at Bear, who hurried forward to greet the man. “Uh, sorry this is so sudden . . . Bobby and I are going on a . . . a trip, and I need someone to watch him.” 

“Why don’t you come in?” Craig held open the door, and Alex stepped inside. The door closed, and then Craig leaned down, unclipping Bear’s leash so the dog could go free. “Hungry?”

“A little.” Alex looked around. The house had the same layout as Bobby’s, but was a million times cleaner, the rooms bright and homey. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude . . .”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on. I had my brother and his family over for dinner, so there’s plenty of leftovers.” Craig led the way into the kitchen and Alex followed. “Have you had dinner?” 

Alex actually laughed. “Bobby does feed me, you know,” she teased, leaning against the doorframe. “Although if that cake’s up for grabs, I might have a slice.” 

“Help yourself.” Craig sat down at the table, reaching over to scratch Bear’s head. “And of course I can watch him.” 

Alex’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket in confusion. Then she rolled her eyes. “Looks like I’m gonna have to skip out on that cake.” She shook her phone for emphasis. “Bobby needs me.”

“Oh, okay.” Craig stood up. “Well, if you ever need anything, I’m here. I’ve seen the people that go into Bobby’s property.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen them too.” Alex shoved her phone back into her pocket with a shrug. “Don’t worry. They don’t bother me if I don’t bother them. Plus Bobby’s pretty protective of me around them. He’s a good guy,” she added, slightly defensive. “He’s weird, and kind of drunk 24/7, but he’s good.”

To her surprise, Craig nodded. “I trust you. I guess you know him better than I do. So, when do you think you’ll be back?” 

“No idea. I guess I’ll call you when I figure out.” Alex’s phone rang again, and she sighed. “I guess I should go. See you later.” And with that, she hurried out the door. 

 

 **A** lex leaned against the car window, watching the barren landscape fly by. “Are we there yet?” she complained, shooting a glance at Bobby. 

He didn’t respond for several long seconds, and Alex sighed. “Another hour or so,” he finally said. “I bet if you quit whining it’d go faster.” 

Alex stuck out her tongue, but turned her attention back out the window. “So . . . what exactly are we hunting?” 

“Dunno. So far there’s been two victims. Both travelers just passing through. Uh, cops are calling it a wild animal attack —”

“Werewolf?” 

“Hearts were still intact. But the bodies were missing a lot of blood. More than you’d expect from their injuries.”

“So . . . vampire? Werewolf vampire? Werepire.” Alex nodded. “Cool. How do we kill one?”

“That’s not a think, you idjit. And I don’t know what we’re hunting.” Bobby turned the truck down a cloverleaf. “Now shut up and be quiet.” 

Alex snorted, but, with a roll of her eyes, did as he asked. She turned her gaze back out the window and watched the ground fly by. 

 

 **F** ifty minutes later she was following Bobby up to the door of their motel, Dean’s duffle bag slung across her shoulders. The door swung open, and Alex stepped inside, eyes darting around the clean room. However, she just grunted indifferently, claiming the far bed by tossing her things onto the mattress. 

“Don’t get too comfy,” Bobby warned. “We’re going down to Felix and Oscar’s room and see what they’ve learned.” 

Alex groaned, but walked back over to the hunter. “I’m hungry,” she whined childishly, grinning as Bobby rolled his eye but pulled out his wallet. He handed her a dollar and she hurried towards the door. “Thanks Bobby!”

“Meet me as room 18 when you’re done!” she heard him yell after her, but she didn’t bother to respond. She stopped in front of the vending machine, shifting impatiently on her feet as she eyed her choices. 

“Hurry up!” 

Alex looked up to see Bobby close the door behind him and start moving down the line of motel rooms, and she frowned. “This is an important decision,” she shot back lightly, but fed the dollar bill into the machine before entering D8. The machine hummed as the metal coil rotated, and Alex watched as her bag of skittles slowly fell down. 

Snatching up her snack, Alex slowly wandered across the dirt parking lot towards the open door, where the brass number 18 was mounted on the door. Inside Bobby was talking with two men. One was small and skinny, the other taller and much broader, arms folded across his chest. It was him who first noticed Alex, dark eyebrows quirking at the sight of the young girl. 

Bobby paused, turning to look over at Alex before waving her in. “Close the door,” he instructed, and Alex kicked the wooden door closed behind her, eyes flickering nervously over the two strangers. “Alex, this is Felix and Oscar.” He motioned to the shorter man and the larger man in turn, and Alex gave them a small nod. 

Felix looked displeased, but his gaze softened slightly at the sight of the young girl, and Alex dismissed the idea that any of their rancor was directed toward her. She slunk across the room to stand beside Bobby, tearing open her skittles bag as Bobby kept talking. “So did you find anything else on the body?” 

“Nothing. We have photos, if you want to take a look.”

Felix nodded his head in agreement, and Alex quickly took stock of the drastic differences between the two. Felix was neat, his hair combed off to one side, still in his suit and tie minus the jacket; Oscar, on the other hand, was wearing a plain white t-shirt under a large, wrinkled flannel shirt, and his wavy brown hair was mussed up one side — Alex assumed he must have recently been sleeping. Both hunters’ hair held traces of gray, and the young girl wondered how old they really were. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts when Bobby brushed by her on his way to the kitchen table where the folders lay; she followed after a second’s delay. Oscar laid out two photos, one of a male, one of a female. Both had deep slashes across their faces and chests, very similar to the photos of animal attacks Alex had seen online. However, she held her tongue, leaving this discussion up to the professionals. 

“Where were they found?” 

“Uh, a few miles north of here. You probably drove past the area on the way down.” Felix flipped open another folder, revealing all of the police and autopsy reports. “The cops said the bodies were found dumped in the parks by the Elm Fork River, but it probably wasn’t their place of death.”

“Autopsy declared a lot of blood was missing,” Oscar added. “Doc said it was more than those injuries should cause.”

“Werepire,” Alex confirmed under her breath. She saw Bobby roll his eyes. 

However the hunter just straightened up. “I’ll go down and check out the dump sites. Alex, head down to the library, would you? See what you can dig up.” Before she could protest he added, “You’re not going out into the field, okay?”

Alex didn’t disagree, but still protested, “So you want me to go to the library? All we know so far is this thing slashes up its vics and _probably_ drinks some of its blood or something. That could be literally anything.”

“Then you better get started. Come on, I’ll drop you off.” 

“We’ll meet you there.” Oscar grabbed his jacket off of the bed. “It’s just off of the highway. You know where you’re going?” 

“Yeah, I’ll find it.” Bobby’s hand came to rest on Alex’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going.” 

 

 **T** en minutes Alex pushed her way into the library doors, eyes flickering around the large room. Her backpack was hanging from one shoulder, slightly weighed down by her journal, a dark notebook, and a couple writing utensils. With a reluctant sigh she walked down the main isle, gaze flitting across the labelings. She found the mythology section in the far back and she tossed her backpack onto an empty table. “Where the hell do I even start?” she muttered, walking down the isle. “Fucking thing drinks blood. Has claws.” She trailed her fingers over the spines of the books, head tipped as she read the names. “Ooh.” She pulled out a large, black book with golden letters that read, _Mythical Beasts from A to Z._ “Good a place as ever.” And with that, she carried it over to her table and let it fall. 

 

 **T** he book didn’t have much detail, but it had a lot of monsters. Alex was quickly able to eliminate the obvious ones: Acheri, Anubis, Amaru, Arachne. She flipped ahead a few pages; letter “B” didn’t even start for almost five pages, and that was with only a third or so of a page dedicated to each creature. 

The young girl sighed; this was going to be a long day. 

 

 **S** he skimmed through each entry, making careful note when one seemed to fall close to the parameters of what they were looking for; Bobby had been clear that not all published mythology had the whole story, so she kept her list vague, not wanting to repeat the process. By the time she got to the letter “M,” she had a list of nearly twenty possible creatures. Her phone rang, and the young girl jumped before answering it. “Bobby?” 

“Hey. What’d you find?” 

“Me? Find?” Alex rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than ‘claws its victims and takes it’s blood,’ Bobby. I mean, you should see my list. Cacus, chupacabra, dunter. This thing could be a damn Bloody Bones for all we know!” 

“It ain’t no rawhead.”

“Why exactly am I stuck with this job? I know, like, nothing about this, Bobby. Hell, I can barely tell a wendigo from a rougarou —”

“They’re the same thing, you idiot. The only difference’s one’s—”

“The early stages, and the other’s when it’s finally lost all of its humanity. I know, I know, I’m literally staring at it right now.” Alex glance over at her open journal. “Bad example, but my point still stands, okay?” 

“Just hold on. I’ll be there in half an hour and we’ll go over what you found.”

Alex looked down at her list, suddenly extremely done with all of it. “Great,” she lied. “Looking forward to it.” 

“Yeah, I can tell. Don’t go anywhere.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it —” Alex frowned when she realized Bobby had hung up, and tossed her phone onto her empty backpack. “Asshole.” 

 

 **B** obby was there within twenty minutes, but Alex didn’t notice him until a finger tapped her solidly on the shoulder. The young girl raised her head, hand tightening around the cup of coffee that sat by her side. “What?” 

“What’d you find?” 

“Where’s the other two?” 

“Went back to their room. Don’t think they got a lot of sleep last night, and Oscar was pretty insistent about taking a nap.”

Alex hesitated, something pawing at the back of her mind. “Oscar and Felix. Is that their real names? I . . . I feel like I’ve heard that combination before.” 

Bobby shrugged. “Felix’s real name is Anthony. I think Felix has something to do with him having bad luck in his past. Like that one cartoon cat.” 

“Huh. They’re kind of an odd couple. I mean, they seem so different . . .” Alex trailed off, not sure where she was going. “Never mind. Here.” She slid the list she had so far compiled over to Bobby, who sat down across from her. “Uh, that’s some possibilities.” 

Bobby picked up her pen and started scratching off names, and Alex curiously watched him work, every once and a while taking a sip of her quickly-cooling coffee. When he finally looked up, only a handful of possibilities remained. “Here’s what I’m thinking.” He pushed the list back to her. “Keres is a possibility.” 

“Can ghosts mov their vic’s bodies? Wouldn’t they just be chained to a place?” 

“Not necessarily. Keres aren’t your typical spook. They’re old, free ranging spirits of violent deaths. Some legends describe them as having fangs, claws, and a taste for blood.”

“Okay, what else?” 

“Chupacabra seems to fit the MO pretty well, and they’re pretty common here in Texas. And then a Red Cap.”

“Yeah. What exactly is that? It looks like garden gnome.”

“Malevolent sons of bitches. Humanoid, small and agile. Most stories describe them as having eagle talons for hands. They drink their victims blood and dip their hats in it. That’s where they get their name. If their hats dry out, they die.”

“Huh.” Alex’s finger traced down the list to where Bobby had _Powrie/Redcap_ circled. “How do you kill one? Apart from drying out their hat.”

“Silver works best. They’re also not a fan of the Holy Word.”

“So . . . Bible verses. Cool.” Alex glanced at the stack of books next to her. “Any way to narrow all of this down?” 

“Well, both victims were found out along 35E, and there’s an abandoned water treatment plant less than a mile from there. Cops said a pretty common place for trespassers, and a pretty good chance that whatever we’re hunting’s either there or in the woods around it. We’ll go check it out tonight, see what we can find.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean . . .”

“Not you.”

“Not me,” Alex repeated. “Of course. I guess I’ll order a pizza, watch a movie. Whatever. Can we go now?” She pulled her backpack closer to her. “I mean, it sounds like you already know about all of these, so . . .”

“I’ve heard of them, yeah. They’re not common.” Bobby stood up. “Hungry?” 

“Hell yeah.” 

 

 **T** he sky was dark, but Alex barely registered the fact that the sun had long set. She was sitting on the motel bed, the tv flickering in front of her. Three books lay by her feet, each open to a specific page. The first was an old, leather-bound book on Keres, which Bobby had decided was most likely to be what they were hunting. The second was open to a section about the English/Scottish Recap, and the book that lay farthest away was on chupacabras, which apparently did exist, even though the young girl shuddered to think of it. 

Beyond the books lay the autopsy photos scattered across the comforter, but Alex didn’t pay them much attention, not sure what to even look for in them. On her lap sat her laptop, and off to the side was Bobby’s old leather journal turned to his own entry on Keres. 

Suddenly the young girl paused, an eyebrow cocked. She turned to her laptop, where a page full of paintings of Keres sat. She looked between the sketch in Bobby’s journal and the images before setting her laptop aside and turning to the autopsy photos. “What?” 

The slash marks across the corpse’s chest had three distinct lines, but all the images of the keres had five, long spindly fingers. Alex’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she pulled the other photo closer. It had the same thing. “That . . . doesn’t really make sense.” On a hunch she pulled the leather-bound book on redcaps closer, skimming down the page until she found it again. 

Then she pulled out her phone and dialed a number. It rang, but no one answered. “Uh, hey Bobby. Listen, you’re the expert here, but I’m confused. See, all the pictures and descriptions here say Keres have claws, kind of like werewolves, but the vics all have claw marks that only indicated only three, er . . . fingers? Looks like it lines up better with redcaps, wouldn’t you think? I know you haven’t really run into these guys a lot, but they’re described to have eagle talons for hands. I mean, I don’t know. Call me back, okay?” 

She hung up and turned back to the book at hand. Fast, silent, creatures, with eagle talons for claws. Outrunning one was impossible. They lived in abandoned castles and had to kill travelers on a daily basis — Alex picked up her phone again, dialing Bobby’s number. It rang, but he didn’t answer, so she tried again. 

Still nothing. Anxiety began to churn in the young girl’s stomach as she slowly began to realize they were hunting the wrong thing. It all fit. The claw marks, the MO, the abandoned water treatment plant. She flipped to the last page in Bobby’s journal and dialed Felix’s number. It rang, and he answered. “Who is this?” 

Relief washed over her. “It’s Alex. Listen, I need to talk to Bobby. I don’t think this is a Keres.”

“It’s not?” Confusion filled the older man’s voice. “What do you mean? What is it?” 

“Redcap. Killed with silver. Where’s Bobby?” 

“He’s not with us. He went off to check out the old treatment plant. Me and Oscar are scouting the wooded park downstream. Why? Do you think it’s in there?” 

“The lore says they like abandoned places, yeah?” Alex jumped off of the bed and threw on her shoes. “I can be there in five minutes —”

“Whoa whoa whoa you sure that’s a good idea —” 

Alex hung up and shoved her phone in her pocket. She grabbed the keys to Bobby’s truck — he had ridden up with the other two hunters — and hurried out to the parking lot. She jumped into the front seat and started the car. 

 

 **F** ive minutes later she pulled the trunk into the abandoned parking lot of the old water treatment center. She slowly got out, fear suddenly churning in her stomach, and she hurried around to the cargo bed and opened the doors. She crawled inside and opened a small wooden chest, gaze darting over the array of knives and blades that lay inside. She picked up the silver one and crawled out, grabbing a flashlight on the way. Once the car was locked up, she crept towards the abandoned building. 

The door was askew, and Alex hesitated, heart thudding wildly at the dark that lay within. Everything in her was telling her to turn back, and she swallowed thickly. “Bobby?” she whispered, taking a step back. “B-Bobby!” 

Taking a deep, deep breath, she flicked on her flashlight and hurried inside.

She crept down the hallways, flashlight darting back and forth over the smooth walls. “Bobby?” she called again, swallowing thickly as her voice caught in her throat. She peered through a window beside a door before spinning around, something prickling at the back of her neck. 

Nothing. Alex hurried down the hall, footsteps echoing on the tile floor, breathing heavy with anxiety. she turned the corner.

Something caught in her flashlight beam, and time seemed to stand still. Even from that distance, Alex recognized it immediately, and her adrenaline-filled mind captured every detail. The creature was short, but extremely thin; Alex could see every rib, every muscle, every wrinkle in its pale, damp skin. It was clearly humanoid, but the long, disproportioned limbs and dark eyes gave it a terrifying appearance. Upon its head sat a long, red cap, which drooped downwards, soaked in the blood of its victims. 

Alex stepped back, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle of her knife. Seeing her move, the redcap started forward, shoulders low and eyes alight, almost as if it was excited by the prospect of a meal. 

The young girl’s brain scrambled, and her throat was dry, and then suddenly an idea popped into her had. “ _S-sic enim dilexit_ . . ?” She started shakily, and the redcap stopped, head tipped. Alex continued, voice growing stronger. “ . . . _Deus mundum ut Filium suum un—unigenitum . . . uh, uh, uh . . . daret_ —” 

The creature took a step back, a snarl on its face.

“— _ut omnis qui credit in eum non pereat sed habeat vitam aeternam?”_

Suddenly the creature let out a cry, and Alex barely held back a cry as it fell at her feet. She looked up, eyes wide with fear, to see a very familiar face standing there. “B-Bobby?” 

“Was . . . that John 3:16?”

“In Latin? Y-Yeah. I’m pretty sure.” Alex stared at the hunter. “You —”

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” he finally snapped, face twisting in anger. “I told you to stay at the motel, dammit!” 

“You — I — I realized it was a, a —” Alex motioned down to the body at her feet. “You didn’t pick up and-and I . . . you’re okay.”

Bobby snorted. “Of course I’m okay.” He wiped his knife off on his jeans before putting it back into his pocket. “I almost had this son of a bitch before you can barreling in here. What’d I say about leaving hunting to the professionals, huh? You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

“I thought you were hurt!” she protested, following Bobby when he started walking towards the exit. “You thought it was the wrong creature, you weren’t answering your phone, and you weren’t with the others.” 

“I had a hunch it was a redcap,” Bobby retorted. “Why’d you think I brought a silver knife with? It’s always good to have a plan B.” He pushed his way out of the water treatment plant, and Alex followed him into the parking lot, taking a deep breath of the night air, trying to steady her nerves. 

“Yeah, and it’s always good to never hunt alone.”

“I’ve been hunting alone since before you were born.” Bobby held out his hand, and Alex dropped the car keys into his palm. “Now get in the car. Felix and Oscar can take care of the body. We’re going home.”


End file.
